Page 39 of The Glass Girl

Day One

We pass a group of kids running desperately after Chuck on our way back to the building. They seem angry, scared, tired, forlorn. All those things at once. They don’t look at us. They don’t want to lose sight of Chuck. They don’t want to get lost. It’s easy to get lost, even here.

Tracy sees me watching them.

“No one likes labels, Bella. But sometimes it helps to have a name for something. When we name things, we understand them. We know where we fit. It’s not a cage. It’s a field of possibilities,” she says.

I know what she wants me to say.

“I’m an alcoholic.”

The world does not break. The walls of Sonoran Sunrise don’t crumble. Violins do not erupt from nowhere. Tracy doesn’t clasp me in a bear hug as I weep on her shoulder.

But something, maybe the tiniest thing, loosens inside me. A relief.

—

In the activity room, Tracy gets the camera from the shelf.

I stand by the wall.

When she aims the camera at me, I look right into the lens and I do not blink.